by T-Cube for chewbakka

Inflaming the Eye-Balls of the Greatest Mood-Spoilers
don’t read this please, if you like cinema

Inland Empire
Inflaming the Eye-Balls of the Greatest Mood-Spoilers //

Ironically this is the first David Lynched film I watched not on LSD / dressed as a pretty woman. I had to watch it in a smelly collector sanctuary where I hide from my family and the police. As I have many social duties it took 250 evenings to complete the viewing. My notes on the plot and its allusions and countless symbols were published by “Goatee International Press” to great success in Soho sex shops. The plot goes like this – Laura “Don’t Cry, damn!” Dern walks from one Lynchian low-budget setting into another, pretending to be an actress in distress. That’s easy for her coz’ Dave forgot to use a script. We get about 23 000 close ups of her trademark “I’m gonna cry, oh my, don’t do this to me again, David” grimace. In the meantime some Polish midgets cut up helpless maidens and violent bearded bums amidst the grainy DV bizarre bizarreness. Thankfully there’s a scene with hot-titted skanks discussing latest MTV reality show in the cheap motel room which is crusial to understanding the depth of it all. Also DINKY rabbits from old Lynched shorts discuss Truffaut and Hindu theology. Marylin Manson appears only to be shot in the face from a toy gun. Then some kindred soul stops this lame “subconscious dreams don’t need explanation” shit by stabbing Laura in the guts with a prison toothbrush. Ending credits go over unforgettable image of Heather Mills and selected whore-choir dancing to “Careless Whisper”.

Recommended FF speed: Maxi Priest.
The moral for the mortals: Some old sleazebags go to great lengths masking lesbian soft-core psycho-torture porn as a work of madman genius.

Gran Torino
Inflaming the Eye-Balls of the Greatest Mood-Spoilers //

I find Clint Eastwood really hard! As hard as a man can be, as hard as a brokeback mountain, harder than UDO’s balls! If you launch Dwayne «The Rock» Johnson into a cannon and fire him into Clint’s granite face, your human shell will just trickle down these historical features like a jellyfish smashed by a rude Osaka kid. The good news – Clint is still hot! (If you’re into zombies). He’s a real G.F.I.L.F.! And he’s back for more Oscars, visiting that shaky plateau of racial hatred. We meet him at some woman’s funeral (other characters speculate it was his own wife but that’s just a sign of their mental unstableness coz’ there’s no way any female creature could share this guy’s company for more than a week). For the next 2 hours he walks around the neighborhood, breathing like Darth Vader who lost his armor and spitting out racist slurs in scary Gremlin voice. We learn that he hates absolutely everyone and everything except for the golden car that Nixon personally gave him. Especially Clinto hates those who are not very American in their blood and skin. He insults them very often. But — surprise! This misanthropic bigot becomes a macho saint! That’s because Hmong folks from the nearest porch invite Ol Clinto for dinner and there he smokes a magic “peace and love” joint with a liberal shaman. Then we have a reverse «Karate Kid» rip-off, when Clinto teaches an autistic Asian kid step-dancing and pigeon fighting. But the streets are the streets and all the local thugs swear to beat the shit out of the funky veteran (of course he used to kill people) for breaking the cultural boundaries and becoming human. Also Clinto gets stalked by a young emo priest. Then a rape is thrown into the plot for some Deathwishiness and we’re ready for the Grand Tornado of Bloody Revenge. And yes – the ending was truly gruesome. After hours and hours of awkward pensioner humor Clinto gets to the business and makes a nuke, using WD-40, duct tape and Casio watches. Then he graphically blows up all the bad guys and flies away into Ford factory Valhalla while Toothless Dracula sings a lounge number in the background. The liberated kid takes the trophy car and Clinto’s favorite possum and escapes to San Paolo where people seem to accept that we all are kinda the same, you know. If you don’t cry by the end credits you must be working for Fidel Castro.

Recommended FF speed: +5
The moral for the mortals: You don’t confess owning a Soulja boy CD to the prist who is a dead ringer for “Operation Kitten Calendar” host.

Eyes Wide Shut
Inflaming the Eye-Balls of the Greatest Mood-Spoilers //

Tom “Unhuman” Cruise and Nicole “Anxious Baby-face” Kidman have a common problem of rich Western people. They don’t wanna sex each other much. Nicole can’t sex Tom coz’ he’s not human and Tom can’t bang her coz’ she’s a full grown woman and not an athletic military pilot in cool uniform. So they dive into the very beautifully cinematographed decadence of seduction, acting like zombies who are very afraid of everything. Then Tom-boy visits a strange Masonic orgy in the “LOL WUT” vein. I tell you – some sick shit happens there, everyone naked and with funny masks while exotic and tasteful music plays (think “Enigma”). Then other really deep and meaningful things happen for hours but I was fast-forwarding furiously so who knows. Probably, Tom-boy didn’t understand a shit besides that he’s a part of The Masterpiece. The film ends when Nicole says “Fuck NO!” because she saw Kubrick dying of oldness and madness. I heard he filmed it entirely with his eyes closed, fearing that Motley Cruise would hypnotize him and take away all the money for his hellish needs. Motley Cruise later revenged the maestro by playing a one-eyed Nazi Nazy slayer.

Recommended FF speed: +5.
The moral for the mortals: Tom is not gay, he’s just very, very polite.

Inflaming the Eye-Balls of the Greatest Mood-Spoilers //

Lars Ulrich advised the director to shoot the high-school art performance using broken DV cameras and underpaid actors from nearest half-way house. Nicole “I’m not kidding, man!” Kidman, a Prophet of Goodness is sadistically, sexually and psychologically humiliated by a whole town of ugly-soul Americans while Von Trier laughs sitting on a cloud. There is of coz’ a “sarcastic and wise old man” voiceover – tons of it! And it goes for days. On some fucking basketball court with hopscotch marks. In the end everyone is shot in the face for upsetting angelic Kid-A Man (I read that in a newspaper) so the viewers can clench their fists in the rush of revenge adrenaline. As for me I broke my VHS copy with a hammer on the 7th minute. I couldn’t watch the whole thing even if you paid me 100 000 roubles!

OK, I lied. Send me 100 Euro and I’ll watch it twice.

Recommended FF speed: Better go for eject option.
The moral for the mortals: If you like theater so much, stage a fucken play and don’t sell it as a movie. (William Shakespeare).

Eastern Promises
Inflaming the Eye-Balls of the Greatest Mood-Spoilers //

Homicidal Russian Mafily (family of mafiosos) terrorizes Gothic-looking London Underworld. Naomi “220” Watts is a nondescript nurse who doesn’t really enjoy life and wants nothing but watch Viggo “Hugo Boss” Mortalson’s naked muscular body. Actually I saw it in the movie theatre and later had my liver and kidney replaced by foreign bubble gum so hard I laughed at their accents and mannerisms. Naomi finds a diary of the Miserable Prostitute which provides obligatory narration. Then the Real Bad Russians appear! Turns out Vincent Cassel drinks so much vodka that he really thinks he’s an unstable Russian gangsta. His father is even worse a scumbag. All of them are in love with Viggo and want to see him naked. So he undergoes a Masonic ritual of becoming a VOR V ZAKONE (true gangsta). We see every criminal tattoo in existence painted by real killers with guyliner on his biceps, triceps, six-packs, nine-packs, whatever. I guess Leonardo and Caravaggio would really like this movie. Then drunken Cassel the Kirill asks Viggo the Nikolay to fuck another Miserable Prostitute to prove he’s a real friend and simultaneously show a bit of his amazing physique. In the meantime these merry guys do what Russians historically do in London, i.e. sadistically humiliate people, take their money forever away and artistically get rid of bodies. Still it’s all absolutely outshined by a 50 minute Turkish bath scene in which Vig the Nik shows his butt and genitals to astonished Chechen thugs (from different tricky angles). After seeing him naked they quickly agree dying sadistically in great ave to his artistic assets. Then the movie ends because Vig the Nik explains to crying Cassel and anemic Naomi that he’s on a Polonium Mission from Kremlin and won’t have sex with neither of them. Accordion kicks in and everybody vomits with happiness on vodka.

Recommended FF speed: +2.
The moral for the mortals: Don’t annoy naked Viggo with your little problems while he’s taking a bath.

The Dark Knight
Inflaming the Eye-Balls of the Greatest Mood-Spoilers //

Best movie ever made! Period. Rather fittingly I watched it while on my period. So the dead guy who played a gay cowboy applies some wet toilet paper and grandma lipstick to his face in order to scare the living shit from American Psycho guy. Then he starts “joking” which means doing “Robert Smith entertaining his nephews on Crystal Meth Christmas Routine” impression. The Jerker also likes to blow the shit up and kills everyone sadistically so all the little kids in the audience can follow his hilarious path. So The Jerker blows some shit up and kills his own goons for the lulz. Rather sadistically. Then we have Patrick Batman (or was it Bruce “Lil’ Willis” Wayne”?) speaking for 2 hours about parking problems, minimal wages for janitors and complicated moral issues. Some guy with weird glasses and porn moustache appears to listen and even reply to this shit. There is a girl who also seems not to like sex and life in general. Another guy named Hygiene Dental joins the conversations and explains the difference between Good and Evil for another 5 hours. For no apparent reason we see a two-hour mobile phone commercial starring Jackie Chan, shot in 23rd Century Hong-Kong. Suddenly The Jerker blows some shit up again and Patrick Batman starts a chase on his awesome high-speed Segway, trying to punish The Jerker for immoral Anti-globalist behavior. The plot thickens even more and Patrick Batman starts speaking in Napalm Death voice from the moment he realizes there will not be sex for him coz’ it’s an epic Crime Saga. The uninteresting girl blows up because The Jerker put a bomb in her toaster. Then The Jerker visits Dental guy in hospital dressed as a tranny nurse and makes medicine fetish love to him. They blow up the hospital together. Dental finds out half of his face is roasted by The Jerker for the lulz and rides on a wave of sadistic mutilation. Then a two-hour Pearl Harbor reenactment scene follows. Then Jerker jokes so badly (for the lulz again) that Dental dies of embarrassment and Patrick Batman escapes into canalization out of horror. To be continued in hell. Probably. The kids (up to 87 years old) go APE.

Recommended FF speed: +4
The moral for the mortals: It’s better to be alive and have gentle intimacy with girls (or guys in cowboy hats) than win an Oscar and have 9.0 IMDb rating. … bat seriously!

Youth Without Youth
Inflaming the Eye-Balls of the Greatest Mood-Spoilers //

A question – what would become of us if our collective youth was spent without Sonic Youth? Animal Collective of course! In case you didn’t know this flick is «Benjamin Butthead» done by Francis “A Cop who owns a Ford” Coppola a year before Fincher jumped on this reverse-cowgirl-loop-time-bandwagon. So Tim Roth (name which funnily sounds like “oral pleasure” in Russian) plays an autistic nerd, sorry, an established scientist who gets erection from lightnings. Unsurprisingly a huge lightning strikes him in the open brain and he starts feeling a bit ill. And horny. Didn’t we all experience that after hearing “Thunderstruck” by AC/DC for the first time? So Tim ages the fuck back again only much faster then Brad Pitt. Now it’s time for some bonus sex, gifted through the mystery of memory, language and time. There is more voice-over than a human being can stand. In 25 languages, including Marsianese and Coco-Lingua. Tim aka Dominicula starts his “research” which includes making retarded faces and listening to spooky spoken-word records (probably compiled by DJ Spooky). Then Hitler says it’s not alright for this loco guy to slack all over Europe in his pajamas and sends Eva Braun to fuck Dominicula’s already damaged brain out. She obeys. The best scene of this saga follows when some swastika lingerie and Nazi thighs are exposed. After that you can safely press the holy button. Another girl with a lightning hole in the skull appears. Centuries start passing fast. Then our heroes go to Egypt, talking in funny languages, pack into a hole in the ground and probably die. But of course.

Recommended FF speed: +5
The moral for the mortals: Talking in many languages can seriously reduce your sex life even if you’re a born-again thunderstruck Tim Roth with an ability to shoot guns with your dirty mind.

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
Inflaming the Eye-Balls of the Greatest Mood-Spoilers //

Yeah, of course I knew the thrilling premise. I just felt they couldn’t top the Abysmal Horror of “Jack”. “Jack” was the only movie during which I pissed myself and my girlfriend’s mini-skirt — so good was Bobin Williams in it. So I watched Benjamin “Don’t forget to push the accelerator button” Button from the end to beginning because good people told me the sex scene was closer to the end than to the beginning. Then I reconstructed what I saw in my brain and nearly died of mental exhaustion.

Here’s the story. Angelina Jolie without make-up gives birth to Brad Pitt and dies because of his instant awesomness. Brad is so disappointed that he becomes a very old man in miniature. Black people raise him, thinking they have their own cool mini-slave. But soon they realize it’s just Brad Pitt imitating Forrest Gump for Oscars. Let’s call him Butthead then, for shortness. Butthead’s alcoholic father starts seducing him in bars, offering buttons for sex. Butthead refuses, he knows there gonna be a Prostitite soon, for it’s Holy Wood! Then he starts fucking prostitutes like a drill, something he wouldn’t do in real life coz’ he’s a polite family man of honor. Centuries pass. He fucks some ghost-looking lady but this time with care and gentlemanniness. Some more centuries pass. A bohemian red-haired broad with ambitions of J-Lo’s proportions starts dancing and fells under a Hewlett Packard car. Butthead visits her in hospital and requests medicine sex because he loved her all his life. He fucks her gently for 5 decades until he realizes he’s a teenager and he can go to jail for underage sexing. Then he goes to his mom’s basement and listens to “My Chemical Romance” until he dies an infant mosher. Of course everything is told in a trembling voiceover by a dying old woman so you don’t think that shrinking bones is some bullshit. Then the flood and hurricane generously destroy all the traces of this heart-breaking story.

Recommended speed: maximum rewind
The moral for the mortals: Bicentennial Brad Pitt gets more sex than Bicentennial Robin Williams.

Inflaming the Eye-Balls of the Greatest Mood-Spoilers //

Some pranksters from Earth send a bunch of “American Idol” rejects to space, telling them that the Sun is going mad and it must be bombed like Hiroshima for that. The team includes a hippy hipster, a baseball expert, an emo gardener and other interesting characters. Then the mathematic guy fucks up and everybody starts to die horribly. The spacesuits made for obese C3PO relatives from pure gold are awesome! Then the shuttle pays a visit to another shuttle, which team thought they had a trip to Hawaii. Those guys were sunbathing without protection so they burned completely. Then naked Freddy Krueger jumps into the second shuttle because he wants to have space horror sex with Cillian Murphy. They almost make it, riding the Large Hadron Collider and then Cillian blows up the Sun with Kryptonite for the lulz. The Sun cuts the lame bullshit and starts working again for the people.

Recommended FF speed: +3
The moral for the mortals: Even I could work in CERN. If eventually everything will be swallowed by Antimatter I would just scream: “Fucked up! Sorry, bros.”.

Slumdog Millionaire
Inflaming the Eye-Balls of the Greatest Mood-Spoilers //

Danny “Boiled Eggs” Boyle shoots a three hour Bollywood video for Deep Forest who reject it. So he makes a Drahma drama from it. The plot is very intricate and consists of three main themes:

1) Some random little kids getting thrown to shit and humiliated.
2) A handsome guy humiliated by Hindu Karma Police for shitty acting
3) The same guy being humiliated by a fatso on a TV quiz for knowing everything

There is a hot Prostitute who is likely to kiss with Jambo or how was his name because he loved her all his life. Plus some bad guys who don’t want him to loose virginity before he earns 130 billions of rupees. Police guys fell in love with Jambo coz’ his life was so shitty. Then he answers all the answers correctly coz’ “it was written”. Clever twist I must admit! All of this was written by the writer of the script so the guy wins all the money and dances with the girl and everybody in India in the train station before escaping to London and becoming a heroin junky. Though this dance is a rip-off from «Zatoichi» I took the twisting ass coda as a nod to “Trainspotting”. Spotty actors dancing between trains – get it?

Recommended FF speed: +4
The moral for the mortals: I cried so hard that I don’t know.

The Fountain
Inflaming the Eye-Balls of the Greatest Mood-Spoilers //

Some King Arthur shit with a bearded macho guy going Apocalypto on a pyramid. Some midgets and Maori dancers. Then a bald account manager in hip designer clothes does yoga between the stars. Time to press the FF button. Some people die in hospital, some boring mid-30s people stare on each other and probably beautiful stuff floats in the cosmic test tube. Then a homeless guy is eaten by killer flowers. The Bubble conquers The Nebula! Grand finale!

Recommended FF speed: Maximum.
The moral for the mortals: If you’re going to live a 1000 years, watch it without touching a remote.

The Wrestler
(aka “Thanks again, Darren!”)

Inflaming the Eye-Balls of the Greatest Mood-Spoilers //

Pumped-up she-male with funny hair and even funnier face wants to continue making simulated kinky sex with other “men” in the ring. There is a talented veteran prostitute who practices striptease as a hobby but don’t get support from the youth. She shows her boobies though in a wild way. That’s the highlight for the soulless MILF-craving crowd. Sadistic love in the ring with staple gun and barbed wire ensues. It’s so hot that Gandhi “The Ham” Knoblesson (the protagonist) has a heart attack. Yeah, he also dreams of dirty sex in the ladies room with a cowgirl and wakes in some kid’s room. That’s when I hit the FF button. There was some other girl, probably his mother, talking him into something like quit smoking kitchen pot on the beach. Plus Ham visits a supermarket to scare old people with hilarious self-mutilation and cheese humiliation. Then the Prostitute goes to Cambridge and he is gently killed in the ring by Iranian commando. Finita.

Recommended FF speed: +3
The moral for the mortals: Only the fittest can sit through 4.5 hours of Jocelyn Wildenstein on steroids going existential.